Will nodded, but he didn’t really care. Burke could high stick him, take him to the ground, and beat him bloody on the ice—it still wouldn’t hurt him as much as Kristen had.
He knew what to do with the physical injuries. Grit his teeth and play through the pain. Ice. Heat. Very carefully monitored pain meds when necessary. Hot tubs and massages. Sometimes, like the shoulder, they could only be waited out.
But he had no idea what do with a fucking broken heart. Based on how he felt right now, none of the broken hearts he thought he’d suffered in his younger days had been the real thing, and he had no coping skills for it.
He did his best to keep himself in check for the remainder of practice. He did everything right. He cleared his final medical checkup with the team doctor. But he still couldn’t feel the rush of triumph at a successful return from injury.
He showered then texted Kristen and got no response. He ate a meal because he had to. He stared at the television for a while because he had nothing else to do, and then he went to bed at the same time he always went to bed before a game, but he stared at the ceiling.
He went to sleep thinking of Kristen and woke again thinking of her. He felt stuck in some kind of dark, emotionalGroundhog Daysituation, and it sucked. But he got up and showered.
Tonight he’d be in front of the Harriers hometown crowd, and they were going to be screaming his name. He owed it to them and to his team to put Kristen out of his mind somehow—if it was even possible—and give it everything he had.
It was time to suck it up and do his job.
* * *
Kristen glancedat her phone when it chimed, but chose to ignore it when she saw Erik’s name on the screen. She didn’t want to talk to her brother. She didn’t want to talk toanybody, though she was going to have to get over that pretty quickly if she wanted to find a new job so she could continue to eat.
Thanks to her savings, she wasn’t in crisis mode yet, so she was giving herself time to wallow—three days so far. It annoyed her to evenbewallowing, since she’d known long before she even met Will that she couldn’t compete with hockey. The game came first, always. But since she was sad, she was allowing herself to go all in on the wallow, which included avoiding people who might try to help her feel better, like her brother.
When she heard a key in the lock, she groaned and dropped her head against the back of the couch. She really should take Erik’s key away from him.
“Youarehome,” he said after he’d let himself in. He kicked off his boots and hung his coat up. “I wasn’t sure, since you won’t answer my text messages or answer my calls.”
“What are you doing here?”
“We just got back from Montreal, and Dad’s been sending me text messages about you. I figured if you were bad enough so he not only noticed but is worried, it must be bad. And the more you ignored me, the more worried I got.”
“I’m fine. Go away. You must have game tapes to watch or something.”
“I’m not leaving you like this, Kris.”
“Like what? Sitting in my own damn apartment, watching some television and relaxing?”
“Yeah, I hate to point it out, but the TV’s not even on. And you’re in your bad-day sweatpants with your bad-day hair.”
She actually laughed, which she hadn’t done in days. “Bad-day hair?”
“You wear ratty sweatpants and just ball your hair up in one of those puffy elastic things when you’re having a shitty day.” He dropped into the chair. “Also you have red eyes and a red nose, and your face is so puffy you look like you’re having an allergic reaction to something.”
“It warms my heart you could take the time out of your day to stop by and cheer me up,” she said, tossing a coaster at his head. Of course he had great reflexes and ducked his head easily to the side to avoid it.
Fucking hockey players.
“Talk to me,” he said. She ignored him, but he just settled himself a little deeper in the chair and folded his arms. “I’m not leaving here until you do.”
“You’ll leave eventually. You have practice. Games. Workouts. Whatever it is. You’ll have to do something hockey-related. You always do.”
“So this is about Cross.” He rolled his eyes. “Or Will. Whatever you want to call him.”
Hearing his name cut through the numbness that had taken over Kristen once she’d smashed some things in anger and then cried herself out. Being numb had been working out for her so far, but apparently that was over.
“Maybe I’m sitting here in my bad day sweatpants, apparentlynotwatching television, because I not only blew up my promotion but also quit my job.”
“Maybedon’t forget you’re talking to your brother here. I know you, and this isn’t how you’d deal with losing your job, no matter how focused you were on that promotion. Like I said, when even Dad—”
“I don’t want to hear about Dad right now,” she yelled, tossing a throw pillow at him. He dodged that, too. “I don’t want to hear about hockey at all, but I definitely don’t want to hear about the asshole who’s probably only concerned about his daughter because whatever’s bothering her might be something that would distract his son from his game.”
